


You kept me grounded (when I was lost amongst stars)

by Wakeywakey_bigmistakey



Series: Academy Awards AU [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Hollywood AU, Makeup-artist!Clarke, Multi, Some angst, actress!lexa, more characters and relationships to be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-07-12 14:35:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7109443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wakeywakey_bigmistakey/pseuds/Wakeywakey_bigmistakey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘Hey Anya, I thought about something earlier, at the studio… You’ve got a job there?’</p>
<p>The actress looked at her incredulously, waiting a moment before answering.</p>
<p>‘I thought you knew? Pretty sure I’ve mentioned it.’</p>
<p>‘Might’ve missed it…’ the blonde said, before continuing to her actual question. ‘I never thought about it until I saw the cast, but do you know Lexa Woods? Like, are you related or something?’</p>
<p>‘Yeah, she’s my cousin.’ Anya didn’t smile, but her lips lifted slightly ‘We used to be closer than most siblings, still are in some ways I s’pose, but we haven’t been in touch much these last few years. She travels a lot, with her job and all. She was actually the one who got me the audition.’</p>
<p>Or</p>
<p>The prequel to Academy Awards feat. Lextra<br/>Clarke gets a job on a movie-set, Lexa is a famed actress, Raven and Anya are getting married and Octavia is trying to make the best of a bad situation</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So... Some asked for it, some didn't, but here it is: the prequel  
> How Clexa started, how Ranya developed, everything  
> I'll update as often as I can, please do leave any criticisms you might have   
> in the comments

The alarm clock rang out unforgivingly early in the morning. The sun had yet to rise, darkness still clouding the snow-covered neighborhood outside Clarke’s bedroom window. She groaned, quickly shutting off the horrible noise with a less than elegant move involving her entire upper body leaving the bed, but legs staying on the soft covers. Laying flat across the floor, she decided that the floor was as good a place to continue sleeping as any other. Eyes firmly shut, the blonde slumbered for another ten minutes before a loud yell startled her out of her post-sleeping nap.

‘CLARKE! IF YOU DO NOT GET UP RIGHT NOW, I WILL DUMP WATER OVER YOUR GROSS ASS!’

Clarke sat up, her back cracking along the way, muttering to herself about annoying roommates. She was suddenly struck with the clarity of why she was getting up at the unusual, for her at least, hour. Today was job-interview day. Today was the day she might get a job to replace her tattoo gig, something she’d very much been looking forward to. The blonde liked the art part of the job, of course she did, but there wasn’t a lot of actual art involved in doing cringe-worthy pieces on drunken college students. _No_ she thought, _never again._ She had gone to art school, she’d worked her ass off on various movie sets and now, she was getting a permanent job in her field, no matter what.

Checking the time, Clarke got up and moved to the kitchen, finding Octavia and Raven nursing a cup of coffee each. Raven looked a tiny bit more awake than Octavia, but carried a strange facial expression, she almost looked ill. The blonde sent her a look, asking whether she was alright.

With a small confirming ‘M’fine’, Clarke looked at their coffees.

‘You bitches better have made me some’ said Clarke, voice still gruff from sleeping. Octavia wordlessly pointed towards a pot standing in the corner of their open kitchen, looking slightly, thought the blonde, like an insomniac zombie. _Can zombies even sleep? What even is an ‘insomniac zombie’?_ Clarke wasn’t sure, but Octavia looked like one. They all sat on the kitchen counter, sipping coffee and sighing heavily.

‘So, Clarke,’ Raven started, turning her head and blinking slowly, ‘you ready to kick that interviews ass?’

Clarke chuckled. ‘I was under the impression that my “gross ass” were to stay a tattoo artist forever so that you two’ she mock glared at her tired roommates ‘could get free ink forever.’

Octavia grinned into her mug and Raven jumped down from the counter, nearly stumbling because her brace chose that exact moment to lock. Clarke looked at her worriedly and was clearly about to say something, but the brunette shrugged it off and fiddled with the metal gears for a moment before continuing into the living room. A moment later the brunette emerged with a large, crudely wrapped package.

‘You see Clarke,’ Octavia said, a large smile plastered on her face while Clarke started unwrapping the package, which seemed to have more tape than wrapping paper, ‘we still want that. You make awesome art, even better on skin. That’s from Anya too.’

Clarke had finally maneuvered around the tape and now sat, a little awed by her friends’ combined kindness and want for free stuff, with every tool and ink of every conceivable color needed for the making of body art.

‘Oh my god, thanks you guys!’ the blonde nearly shouted, beaming at her smiling friends.

‘Consider it a congrats-on-the-possible-dream-job present,’ Raven said ‘although the records should show that this is a guy-free apartment. Now get in the shower and turn on that Griffin charm, you’re getting that job.’

 

* * *

 

 

As it turned out, Clarke did, in fact, get that job.

She stood for a full five minutes outside the studio, taking in the impressive building in front of her and trying to calm herself down. It wasn’t that she underestimated her own abilities as an artist, but a lot of people would surely have turned up when the movie was as anticipated as this one. Once inside, she found the place nearly deserted and only by chance, and the help of an incredibly bored-looking assistant, did she manage to find the room of the actual interview in time to not be late. She wondered, for a moment, whether the assistant had pranked her; the waiting room was as empty as the corridors that led to it. Studying the starry night replica on the white wall, the blonde considered just leaving. She didn’t, though, because she’d be damned if she let this opportunity slip. With a loud noise that made Clarke jump, the door to her immediate right opened.

‘Miss Griffin?’ a man with snowy white hair asked, looking intently at her. When she nodded, he gestured for her to follow him into the room. It had the same white walls as the rest of the studio, but this one was significantly smaller than the rest of the ones Clarke had gone through. At a table in front of her the man sat down next to a younger, brown haired man, who carried a permanent expression of just having seen something mildly distasteful.

‘We’d like to hire you. You have an impressive portfolio and could surely contribute a great many things to the newest of Mount Weather Studios’ films’ said the man who’d let her in, while his associate, to whom he carried a striking resemblance, sneered slightly but didn’t speak up. Clarke opened and shut her mouth, entirely too overwhelmed to know what to say. _Is this some sick joke?_ she thought, staring at the elder man in front of her. This seemed to amuse the sneering man, and Clarke thought she heard him mutter ‘told you so’ under his breath. While a slight pink tinge rose to her cheeks, she schooled her face into one of cool professionalism.

‘I apologize for the bluntness, Miss Griffin. I am Dante Wallace, and I run these studios. This-‘ he gestured towards the brunette man, whom Clarke decided she didn’t like one bit ‘-is my son, Cage Wallace. He will be working on the sets of the same film as you, should you accept.’

Clarke was at a loss for words, but she still managed to get out the question ‘Uhm, isn’t there, like, other applicants?’ and cursed herself for the sudden insecurity. _Get it together_ she chided herself, especially because Cage were looking greatly amused by her lack of confidence.

‘Of course there were’ Cage announced, smirking in a way that made Clarke inexplicably uncomfortable. ‘There were candidates with more experience, more impressive resumes. Lots of them, really.’

‘Now, now, Cage, don’t be rude’ Dante muttered, before directing his attention towards Clarke, who had grown worried at the comments. ‘Allow me to explain, Miss Griffin.’

Clarke didn’t like the way he kept saying her name, but she nodded for him to continue anyway. Her want to just sign a contract and get out of there almost outweighed her curiosity of why they had chosen her, _almost_ being the key word. This was the opportunity of a lifetime and she’d be damned if she didn’t figure everything out.  

‘You see; we’ve already signed the contract with the actress who will be playing the main character in the movie’ he handed Clarke a piece of paper containing the most important hires so far ‘-I think you, alongside half the world’s population, are familiar with the name.’

Clarke looked down onto the white sheet

 

** Conclave: Ascension Day **

**Director: Marcus Kane**

**Commander of the Clans: Lexa Woods**

**Commander’s mentor/friend: Anya Woods**

**Advicer of the Commander: Titus McAbaldy**

**Natblida #1: Aden Trikru**

**Natblida #2: Tris Caris**

 

Clarke stared at the paper for a moment, trying to comprehend the first name on the list. Lexa Woods was undeniably famous, but that’s not what caught her attention. _Anya Woods_ it said, the name of Raven’s long-term girlfriend. Woods wasn’t exactly a common last name, but she’d never thought about it before _._ Clarke pondered; she knew that Anya no siblings, none related by blood or last name at least. They _had_ to be related. Her train of thought got interrupted by Dante clearing his throat.

‘You see, Miss Woods is very… Particular, in regards to the films she appears in.’

Clarke once again heard Cage mutter under his breath, but this time she felt pretty certain that it wasn’t about her; he’d scowled since the first mention of the actress.

‘When she saw your portfolio, she was very impressed. If I recall it correctly, she said you had an _unusual integrity in your work_. I daresay she very nearly demanded we hire you. Once we saw your work, we quickly agreed that it was warranted attention.’

Clarke was in a daze; she’d not only gotten a job, she’d got it because someone as ridiculously famous (and talented) as _Lexa Woods_ had _demanded_ she be hired.

She signed the contract, not even noticing Cage’s obvious disdain, and went towards the apartment. Even the freezing cold couldn’t dampen her mood and she reached her home in what felt like no time at all.

Finding their front door unlocked, Clarke rushed in to tell her roommates the news.

‘O? RAVEN? WHERE ARE-‘ turning into the living room, the blonde very quickly turned back around, shutting her eyes. ‘Hello, Anya. I wasn’t aware you were coming over today.’ The image of one of her best friends, straddling said friend’s girlfriend, naked, was not one that Clarke would like to have etched into her memory.

‘Coming over isn’t the only way she’ll be comi-‘ Raven started, but Clarke interrupted her before she could finish.

‘Raven Reyes, if there is as much as a _single_ stain on that couch, I will sell every single tool you own and give Wick your phone number,’ Clarke deadpanned, ‘now get dressed, we’re celebrating.’ Clarke couldn’t contain her grin though, because they would be celebrating the fact that _she_ had gotten her _dream job_ and honestly, who wouldn’t be ecstatic.

It took a second for Raven and Anya to get dressed, Anya grumbling but smiling uncharacteristically wide. Raven looked positively dopey. Clarke eyed the two of them for a second, taking them in. Something was different, she could feel it. Their clothing looked rumpled, but it always did when they were left alone for more than two consecutive minutes. It was their demeanor that had changed, Clarke concluded. They weren’t a touchy couple, except for their very public make-out sessions, but now they clung to each other, Anya standing behind Raven and holding her, their hands clasped and -that was when Clarke noticed- Anya was wearing a ring. Anya, who usually never wore any jewelry, was wearing a golden band. On her left hand.

Clarke stared at them for a moment longer.

‘Oh my god, RAVEN YOU PROPOSED!’

Raven’s smile turned into a goofy grin, and she couldn’t keep a delighted laugh from escaping her lips.

‘Yeah, I did.’

Anya, who’d so far been busy staring intently at Raven, raised her eyes to meet Clarke’s. The newly engaged woman wasn’t smiling, she never did that for very long, but she was damn near glowing. Clarke congratulated them, Raven with a hug and her fiancée by clasping her forearm and smirking (knowing that the woman wasn’t a hugger, except for with a very few select people).

‘What was it that you were yelling at me and O for,’ Raven asked after a moment, but before Clarke could answer, realization dawned on the mechanic’s face. ‘DID YOU GET THE JOB?!’ she yelled, and at the blonde’s joyous confirmation, she threw her arms around both women.

‘We have so much to celebrate. I’m texting O, tonight we bash. Griffin, grab the emergency party fund and get us all the booze that the money can possibly buy, tonight is going to be legendary’ Raven said. Clarke was already halfway out the door with their shared party fund, when she heard her friends unmistakable voice saying ‘Anya, stay right there. After I’ve sent this text, we’re finishing our private party.’

‘Raven, I wasn’t kidding about the couch. A single stain and Wick the Dick will have your number and your tools will go to the lowest bidder on craigslist!’ Clarke shouted before closing the door, rolling her eyes but unable to be truly annoyed with her friend. Smiling and practically skipping down the steps towards floor level, Clarke felt her phone buzz in her pocket.

 

**Hoe-mies**

**Raven-claw:** O U BETTER GET UR ASS HOME WE’RE THROWING A PARTY

**Octavi-huh:** I was already on my way what’s the rush??

 

**Raven-claw:** Our little Clarkey is a working woman

 

**General cheeky-bones:** And we’re getting married??? Pretty substantial information?

 

**Octavi-huh:** OMFG U GUYS!!!! 4 REAL???

**Octavi-huh:** THATS AMAZING!!!

**Octavi-huh:** I leave the apartment for a couple hours n this happens??

 

**Griffster M.D:** I once left the apartment for 30 minutes and came home

to find my room filled with literal bees

 

**Octavi-huh:** that’s fair

 

**Octavi-huh:** U guys hungry? I feel like thai

**Octavi-huh:** Y aren’t Ranya **tm** answering??

 

**Griffster M.D:** They r out of reach at the moment

 

**Griffster M.D:** Knock before entering

 

**Grifftster M.D:** Prolly just wear earphones w/ VERY loud music

 

Clarke put her phone away and exited the building, hitting a wall of ice cold air and unrelentingly freezing wind. The only warmth came from the bubble of happiness she carried inside of her, both for herself and her newly engaged best friend.

 

* * *

 

 

Loud music thrummed from the speakers, bass up so loud that Raven could physically feel it in her good leg. Anya had left a little while earlier to make some phone calls, probably informing her family of the engagement. It might have made the mechanic a little bitter, having no relatives important enough to bring the amazing news, but she was too content in the moment. Getting up, she walked over to the blonde who’d been dancing for a while.

‘Yo Clarke, wanna get a drink with me?’

‘I was under the impression that you were taken, but I can’t refuse an offer from such a good-looking individual as yourself’ Clarke answered smoothly, smirking and sending her a wink. Raven just rolled her eyes, huffing out a laugh before going for the drinks table. Their party fund had bought a _little_ (it was used too often to contain too much), but their guests had bought more than enough once they knew the occasion. It wasn’t a big party per se, mostly friends and plus-ones, but they had a _lot_ of friends.

‘Now that you’ve lured me away from the narrow path of the lord, do you plan on making me a drink?’

‘Please Griffin, like we don’t both know that was a lost battle _long_ before I ever met you.’

‘Heaven is overrated anyway, now I do believe alcohol was mentioned.’

Raven just rolled her eyes, pouring generous amounts of clear liquid into two cups of juice. She handed Clarke one, eyes searching the room for another blonde. The blonde in front of her noticed, however, and after a sip of her drink and a quirk of an eyebrow, she couldn’t keep quiet.

‘Am I not entertaining you, or are you already suffering from WW?’

When Raven shot her a questioning look, Clarke let out a raspy laugh before explaining: ‘Wifey withdrawal.’

Raven rolled her eyes and huffed, because she was not clingy. She wasn’t. It was just that Anya had left _more_ than five minutes ago, and she could be - _fair enough_ the mechanic conceded mentally, so she was a little clingy. Only on this occasion though, and hell would freeze over before she admitted it to her smug-looking friend. Before being able to respond, a pair of arms wrapped around her middle.

‘If I didn’t know any better Blondie, I’d say you’re jealous that Raven is getting laid good and regularly’ Anya said, smirking slightly.

‘Careful with displaying emotions so publically Cheekbones, or your badass rep might get ruined. Or maybe it’ll get ruined because you’re actually a huge softie,’ Clarke shot back lightly, laughing when the newly engaged woman scoffed and looked genuinely annoyed at the notion.

‘I am no such thing, Clarke.’

‘Oooh, my actual name. Hit a nerve?’ Clarke grinned, watching Anya roll her eyes and clearly planning to protest. ‘You do realize that we have ridiculously thin walls, yes? Which means that one, we all know that “regularly” is understatement of the century and two, I hear all the sappy shit you say when you think no one but Raven can hear it.’

Before anyone could say anything else, a very drunk Octavia stumbled over and leaned heavily on Clarke’s shoulder.

‘I’m so excited for you guys! You’re like, the bestest friends a girl could wish for! Even Anya,’ she shouted, at full volume, directly into Clarke’s ear. Shrugging her off showed to be the definition of a bad idea though, as the tiny girl were completely unable to stand upright on her own.

‘How much have you had to drink, O?’ Clarke asked amusedly, catching her friend, because Octavia was definitely no lightweight.

‘So many,’ Octavia answered, looking thoughtful for a moment ‘-so, so many.’

Clarke looked to Raven for help, but she was preoccupied with shoving her tongue down Anya’s throat, Anya looking as if trying to devour the mechanic in return. Sighing heavily, she started pulling the drunk brunette towards the kitchen. It turned out to be desolate and a great deal quieter, so the blonde deposited Octavia and turned towards the sink to fill a glass of water for her friend.

When she turned back, it took her a moment to comprehend the scene in front of her; Octavia was bent slightly over the table, seemingly talking to herself. Upon further investigation, it turned out that she was fervently congratulating a potato on its role in Toy Story. The blonde dropped her glass of water because of how hard she was laughing, and the brunette turned towards her with wide eyes at the sound of the cup hitting the floor.

‘Clarke, a celebrity walks amongst us.’

Helping the plastered girl up, Clarke started heading towards the hall of their separate rooms. Once Octavia started talking like a side character in a fantasy novel, it generally meant that it was time to get her to bed. Getting over the threshold of the brunette’s room showed out to be a challenge, as her legs had apparently given up. Once inside the room, the blonde laid her down and told her to get her pants off, while she picked up some pajama pants from the floor.

‘Are you trying to court my pants off, fair lady? Because I have to tell you, my heart belongs to another.’

Clarke’s eyes widened; Octavia would, very rarely, get smashed beyond just talking weirdly old-fashioned. In the few cases, she got honest. Completely honest. She smiled and turned to her friend, handing her the pants and sitting on the edge of the bed.

‘And who is this mystery person? You haven’t mentioned them before,’ she asked, looking down on her friend. The brunette’s lips quirked upwards, but Clarke’s chest gave a twinge when she noticed that her friend looked unmistakably sad. She placed a hand over the small one on the bed and squeezed her hand reassuringly.

‘She’s… Amazing, like, really amazing and I’m so happy for her, I really, really am it’s just…’ Octavia had stopped speaking like they were in the middle ages, and was instead rambling with a slurring voice. ‘I know that it’s better for her anyway and everything, and her one and only is practically family but I like her so, so much but she’s so happy, and I won’t tell her because it wouldn’t be fair… I just… I’m in love with her, Clarke.’

At the last part of the sentence, she looked up at the blonde with wide, sincere eyes. Clarke was shocked to see tear in the brunette’s eyes, because Octavia Blake never cried. Ever.

Instead of asking all of the questions inside her mind, Clarke tried to ask something so that she could help the heartbroken girl.

‘O, I’m sure that there’s something you can do about it. Why do you think she’s happier without you? You’re pretty damn awesome if you ask me.’

The blonde tried to make the last part cheery, but Octavia kept making chocked sobbing noises into her pillow. It took a while, but at last the brunette looked up. With a voice smaller and more quivering than Clarke had thought possible from the fierce woman, she explained:

‘She… She’s one of my best friends, Clarke, and she just told me that she’s getting married.’

 

 

* * *

 

 

Raven had detached herself from Anya to go check on her best friends. It worried her slightly how long they’d been gone. She frowned when she didn’t find them in the kitchen. It was barren of people and the table was cleared, except for a single potato laying in the middle of it. Turning the corner, her frown deepened when she heard sobs from Octavia’s room. She could hear Clarke speaking lowly in a soothing tone, but couldn’t make out any words. In a panicked attempt at respecting the privacy of whoever was having a breakdown, she knocked frantically.

‘Clarke? Are you okay? Who’s in there?’ she said, making sure to be heard but not yell. A particularly loud sob made her gasp, because there was no mistaking Octavia’s voice.

Octavia looked frantically at Clarke when Ravens alarmed voice floated through the door.

‘Make up some excuse, just please don’t tell her’ she said, and when the blonde made no move to get up, she all but shoved her off the bed, hissing ‘Go!’

Clarke looked down at her friend, whose whole demeanor changed to aggressive but then back small and scared. During the whole exchange, Octavia had switched back and forth between painfully plastered and seriously sober, fragile and fierce.

‘I’ll be fine, I just can’t face this right now.’

The door opened and Raven let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding at the sight of Clarke, but when Octavia didn’t appear behind her, she nervously searched the eyes in front of her. The blonde closed the door behind her and when she looked up, the mechanic saw worry painted across her face.

‘She’ll be fine, she’s just drunk and sad because her dickhead brother won’t attend her birthday next week. Again. She really needs some sleep right now.’

Raven nodded in understanding and they went back to the living room, giving Octavia some space and, turning down the music, a little peace. People had started filtering out some time earlier, so it wasn’t crowded at all anymore. Anya looked up as they approached, scooting over to make room on the couch.

‘What took you so long?’

Raven and Clarke shared a look, wordlessly agreeing that what had just happened should be Octavia’s own decision whether to share or not. They sat down, Raven leaning against her fiancée.

‘We just had to make sure that O was alright’ Clarke said, deliberately vague. Anya shrugged, taking a sip of her beer and nuzzling Raven’s hair.

To stop herself from worrying about her friend and the repercussions of her admission, Clarke thought back to her interview earlier. A question she’d forgotten in the haze of the engagement suddenly struck her, so she turned towards the couple next to her.

‘Hey Anya, I thought about something earlier, at the studio… You’ve got a job there?’

The actress looked at her incredulously, waiting a moment before answering.

‘I thought you knew? Pretty sure I’ve mentioned it.’

‘Might’ve missed it…’ the blonde said, before continuing to her actual question. ‘I never thought about it until I saw the cast, but do you know Lexa Woods? Like, are you related or something?’

‘Yeah, she’s my cousin.’ Anya didn’t smile, but her lips lifted slightly ‘We used to be closer than most siblings, still are in some ways I s’pose, but we haven’t been in touch much these last few years. She travels a lot, with her job and all. She was actually the one who got me the audition.’

Clarke was slightly taken aback by the sheer amount of words from the usually stoic Anya, but she was still curious about the whole thing. She wouldn’t be getting answers from the actress any time soon however, as she had gotten suddenly busy with Raven. Looking around, she noticed that they were the only people left and excused herself to go to bed, not receiving an answer as the couples’ mouths were preoccupied with each other. Going to bed, her head spun with all the news from the day.

 

* * *

 

 

Dawn was stretching lazily across the sky when Octavia awoke, head pounding but stomach thankfully still. She groaned and swung her legs down from the bed, never one to draw out getting up. She caught a view of herself in the mirror and sighed; black makeup had flowed down under her eyes, even some over from her rubbing them. It almost looked like war paint, leftover from her own personal battle with herself. Her chest felt heavy with the knowledge of her inner turmoil, and especially because she wasn’t the only one who knew anymore. It wasn’t that she necessarily regretted telling Clarke, it just seemed so completely irreversible to have her unfortunate feelings outside herself, even if it was just one person.

Some of the events of the night before still existed only as a blur in her memory, but she remembered other parts vividly; dancing, drinking way more than she should, telling Clarke.

As she stood there, seeing herself in the mirror of her bedroom, she made a decision: her feelings, whether they changed or not, weren’t relevant. Octavia would be damned before she let Raven get in a position where she felt like she had to choose between a best friend and the love of her life, and Anya was like the sister she never had. When Bellamy was being a dick and she’d cut contact with him, it was the Woods that had made her a part of their family. When Raven was feeling especially down because of her leg or her past, Anya always knew what to say to make her feel better. There were a billion reasons why her feelings were irrelevant in her mind, but she only needed one: Raven was happy with Anya, as Anya was with Raven, and that was the way it was supposed to be.

Octavia was slightly impressed with herself at the coherency of her line of thought, and so, after making sure to remove the black strokes around her eyes, went to get some breakfast. Cracking the door open, it was a decision she mourned at once. The sheer volume of the howling laughter flowing from the kitchen upped the throbbing in her skull, making her consider just laying down on the floor and fading into non-existence, but the tantalizing smell of waffles pull her towards the kitchen. The laughter didn’t die out as she’d hoped, so from her unnoticed spot in the doorway, she agonizingly let out a complaint.

‘I love you guys, I really do, but for the love of tits would you quiet down?’ she said, and three pairs of eyes turned towards her, one looking slightly more sympathetic than she’d have liked. Her words had the opposite of intended effect, as all three of them simultaneously roared even louder. Raven was the first to return to intelligible language, even if her words was still stalled by slight giggles.

‘Hey O, you feeling good there? I have a true celebrity with me that I believe you’d like to meet, even if it isn’t the first time.’

The mechanic procured a potato seemingly out of thin air, Octavia groaning and covering her face when the memories of their previous “meeting” hit her. Eventually, after much, much longer than she felt necessary or justified, her friends’ laughter finally tapered off and she could finally enjoy her breakfast, with only the occasional Toy Story reference thrown her way.

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke was one big bubble of anxiety the morning of her first day of work. It wasn’t relieved when the first thing she heard going into the kitchen was: ‘I am five minutes away from saying fuck it and setting it on fire!’ exclaimed by Raven, sitting with some sort of machine and a metric fuckton of tools at the dinner table. What was more concerning being the fact that the artist had no doubts about the mechanic’s abilities to go through with the mildly arson-y idea, as she was prone to setting things on fire or otherwise making them go boom, whether intentional or not.

‘Good morning to you too, and what a lovely morning to burn down our apartment’ Clarke said, satisfied at startling the brunette. She noticed the dark circles underneath her eyes and the coffee mug big enough to drown an army, and concluded that her friend probably hadn’t slept since the night before. She also concluded that her cheery demeanor was less than appreciated, as Raven’s only response was to growl at her.

‘I’m making coffee, would you like me to make you a refill?’ Clarke asked, deciding not to cross her sleep-deprived friend. ‘I just need you to make a boiler large enough for the bathtub, if you intend on having that _entire_ mug filled’ okay, so not _entirely_ cross her at least. Raven just looked at her, blinking slowly. She took it as that coffee would be appreciated, and set to work.

They were both drinking from their mugs, Raven apathetically staring at the apparatus on the table, when Anya, then Octavia a few minutes later, joined them. Anya rubbed soothing circles on Raven’s shoulder while the younger woman bee-lined for the kettle.

In the middle of a heated debate on who should make breakfast, Raven’s phone buzzed.

 

**Terrifying mother-in-law**

**Hello Raven.**

**I would like to truly congratulate you**

**on the engagement, as I haven’t had**

**the chance to yet.**

**I would also like to truly remind you**

**of my extensive sword collection.**

**Indra, your faith in me astounds me.**

**But thank you, knowing we have your support**

**is absolutely appreciated.**

**Of course. Say hello to Anya and**

**Octavia from me.**

Anya, who’d been reading along with the conversation, amusedly huffed. Raven smiled at her, then turned towards the younger brunette sitting across from her.

‘Hey O, Indra says hello.’

Octavia looked up from her wistful staring into her mug and grinned.

‘Yay, that means she’s not _as_ mad at me anymore.’

‘What’s up, Strik Gona, how’d you piss off the mothership?’ Anya inquired, purposely using the nickname she knew the woman hated.

‘Well, we were training with some swords at Grounders and long story short, I might’ve lightly stabbed her’ Octavia explained, looking a little bashful. The assembled friends stared at her incredulously for a moment.

‘How the fuck,’ Raven started ‘do you _lightly stab_ someone?’

‘You just…’ Octavia made some vague arm movements, not offering a better explanation. Before any more questions could be asked, Raven’s phone went off again, this time with an alarm.

‘Time for me to go face Wick the Dick and the rest of his meninist musketeers.’ She grimaced, disdain written plainly across her face.

‘I’m surprised you haven’t killed him yet’ Anya deadpanned, not necessarily joking by the looks of it.

‘I keep trying, but nobody lets me get very far’ Raven answered, pointedly looking at Clarke, who’d argued against the use of homicide as a problem-solver multiple times.

The blonde shrugged, citing that she didn’t feel like having to drive to prison every other week to visit. Raven got up, leaving the remaining three for her job at a garage. Clarke thought, not for the first time, that she should find another place to work when she hated her coworkers as much as she did. She really liked her boss, Sinclair, enough so that she said it made up for the “intolerable man-babies”.

Anya got up and signaled for Clarke to follow. As they were working at the same studio, they had agreed that driving together would be more efficient. That, and the fact that Clarke didn’t own a car.

With both of them in the car, Anya behind the wheel (‘if you think I’m going to let you drive my truck, you must have smoked something stronger than cigarettes for breakfast, Blondie), Clarke connected her phone with the speakers.

‘Hakuna matata! What a wonderful phrase’ Clarke sang along, Anya looking less than pleased.

‘Are you eight, Clarke?’

‘What, not a fan of Disney?’

‘I will throw you out the window if you don’t find some proper music _right now_.’

‘Feisty, I like it.’

‘ _Clarke_ ’

Deciding that it might not be the day to expand Anya’s musical repertoire, Clarke switched to something more in the rock-ish vein. She still sang along, much to the driver’s annoyance.

_‘Counting all the assholes in the room,’_ she smirked at Anya ‘- _well I’m definitely not alone. I’m not alo-o-o-o-ne-‘_

Sadly, her standing ovation would have to wait as they pulled into the parking lot and shut off the car. The nerves, which had been stalled by her full-time hobby of annoying Raven’s fiancée, came crashing back with a vengeance. Checking the time, Clarke found that they were a bit early. _Ey, good first impression_ she thought, heading towards the entrance of the bright white walls of the studio.

The labyrinthine layout of grand halls, small rooms and seemingly endless hallways was decidedly _not_ easy to navigate. Anya was one lucky fuck, Clarke thought, having to enter the first room. Pushing yet another white door ( _what is it with these people and fucking whiteness everywhere?),_ she finally managed to locate the make-up room.

Standing in front of her were two people, chatting happily away at an overly large bureau full of supplies for their work.

‘Uh, hello. This is the main make-up department, right?’ she asked, a little shakily. One of the girls, her hair done in two tight braids down the sides of her head, smiled at her and nodded.

‘Yeah, welcome to your new base. I’m Zoe, but just call me Monroe, everyone does.’ The woman, Monroe, gestured to the other person, who was looking at Clarke in a friendly manner. ‘That’s Harper. We’ve worked together before. You’re Clarke Griffin, yes?’

Clarke nodded, already more at ease with the women she’d be working with for at least a couple of months.

‘Heard you got a personal recommendation from the one and only Woods, how’d you make _that_ happen?’ Monroe asked. Clarke felt slightly squirmish at the question, it made it sound like she’d gotten in on some sort of free-ticket. Raising her eyebrows and her shoulders, she let out, a bit more aggressively than she’d meant it ‘Don’t know her, got in on an impressive portfolio I suppose.’

‘Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it, it’s just that I’ve worked with her and she’s sorta…’ Monroe replied quickly, lifting her hands in surrender.

‘Sorta…?’ Clarke asked, interest genuinely peaked.

‘Closed off, I guess. Never talks about anything not business related.’

Harper nodded in agreement.

 

* * *

 

Lexa was _not_ having a good day. She wasn’t even having an _okay_ day. Flying for fourteen hours straight and having to go directly to the new movie set did nothing to quell her foul mood. Giving herself a one over in the mirror of her on-set trailer, she faintly nodded: one wouldn’t be able to actually see her exhausted state, which was really the most important thing, she thought. _I’ll just have to hope it ends early today._

From the moment Lexa’s feet touched the studio’s white floors, she was doted on by at least four different people at a time. In her worn daze, she noticed that there was a _lot_ of hallways she’d have to figure her way around; it’d be unprofessional of her to get lost at her own place of employment. Her stomach made a weird swoop when she thought about her imminent meet with her cousin.

Anya was the closest relative, the closest person, that she had in her life. Their communication had been scarce, which Lexa admitted to having most of the blame for. For some years, they had rarely been on the same continent and when they were, it would often be on the opposite ends of it.

The leader of the production, Cage, opened the door into the main filming hall for her, poorly disguised contempt written across his face. She wasn’t exactly certain what she’d done to warrant the way he treated her, but it wasn’t too disconcerting; no matter what, she’d had worse.

Lexa couldn’t help but wonder why he was on the production team, much less leading it. from what she’d seen and heard, Cage didn’t fit the role at all. She knew his father owned the studios which was most likely connected to his permanent employment, and she couldn’t complain; Anya had gotten the job on her own, but the audition through Lexa; Aden had a glowing recommendation backing him and Tris might’ve landed at the top of the applicant pile with a little help from her side.

Lexa wouldn’t’ve done it if she thought they didn’t have the talent, but the movie did contain a lot of the people she considered family or the likes, she had to admit that.

A head of blonde hair pulled her from her thoughts, arms wrapping her in a quick hug.

‘Anya. It’s been too long.’

‘Damn right it has, Commander.’

‘Please, don’t. I nearly didn’t take this role because of it, I do not need the rest of the crew knowing about an embarrassing childhood nickname,’ Lexa said, her lips quirking and eyes glowing with amusement. Anya just grinned in return and took her by the hand, leading her towards the costume department.

Neither noticed the rest of the assembled people’s stares, at Lexa in particular; she was known as calm, cool, the perfect picture of professionalism. Being practically dragged by a giggling companion was not something they were expecting.

Pictures might’ve been taken.

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke, Harper and Monroe was sitting quietly, waiting for the costume department to be done with the two main characters. They’d done what they could to prepare, everything already planned out, so now there was just waiting.

‘Holy FUCK,’ Monroe jumped up, loudly exclaiming. The other women startled, looking at her questioningly. ‘Not that professional, then. Check this out, I mean, it’s barely been three hours since production officially began…’ Monroe held out her phone for Clarke and Harper to see, tab open to some crappy tabloid.

**The Ice Queen melts? Lexa Woods implied in on-set romance**

Underneath it, there were three pictures: the first of Anya and her hugging, the second one featuring Anya laughing and the third, Anya dragging her by the hand, both seemingly amused. Harper whistled.

‘Would _not_ have seen that one coming. Go Woods though, like…’ followed by a gesture towards the picture, ‘That is a pretty person of a seemingly female variety.’

Clarke, who’d just watched up until then, started giggling. It escalated into a booming laugh, catching the attention of the other two.

‘What’s so funny, Griff? If it’s the idea of two women, we might have some issues.’ Harper stated, causing Clarke to violently shake her head. She wasn’t even sure _why_ she found it so funny, but she did.

‘That woman, the _pretty one of the seemingly female variety,_ she’s my best friend’s fiancée and Lexa Woods’s cousin,’ Clarke explained, regaining her bearings ‘And trust me, I have no issues with people getting with the same gender.’

 

* * *

 

 

Octavia was dumbfounded. Her mouth hung slightly open and she exhaled deeply. Tears didn’t well up, but her eyes stung. Inside her chest, she felt her heart clench and then, to her great shame, fluttered lightly. It turned back to clenching though, because no matter what, she was going to help resolve this. Anya couldn’t, wouldn’t, do something like that.

Taking another deep breath, Octavia looked over her computer screen one more.

**The Ice Queen melts? Lexa Woods implied in on-set romance**

Just as she was meticulously looking over the pictures, the front door opened.

‘O, you will never believe what those assholes said today! Better yet, what I said back,’ Raven yelled, the noise from her removing her boots and jacket flowing to the living room. she didn’t make an appearance straight after, instead continuing her story from the kitchen.

‘So Wick and his wicked dicks were all fucking whining about the friendzone and the usual blabber, so I was like “you guys, I’d never friendzone a Nice Guy!” in the grossest, most compliant way and I swear half of them almost came, disgusting dudes… So then Wick, head of the dicks, pun intended, goes like “I’m a Nice Guy” and I had to hold myself back from actually saying _tm…_ But it was all worth it because then I went                                                                                                                  

“I do what any actually decent person would do and funzone them, along with the rest of the small, annoying children,” best moment of my life, hands down… That’s including proposing!’

At this point, Raven finally emerged with a large cup, probably coffee number way-too-much that day. Octavia’s stomach plummeted at the mention and, looking at the pictures, she tried to look cheery.

‘That’s really great. That’s the bee’s knees, Raven, the wasp’s nipples. I’d go as far as to say, the entire set of erogenous zones of every major flying insect of the Western world.’ Octavia grinned, trying to look natural.

She failed, obviously.

‘O, are you alright? Is this about that thing from the night we celebrated Clarke, Anya and I?’

All blood, color and general signs that she wasn’t, in fact, made of wax, drained completely from Octavia’s face. Stiffly, she put the laptop down and got up. Her clenched fists shook and her breathing sped up, each inhale shallower than the former.

‘Did…’ she started, her voice shaky, ‘Did Clarke tell you?’

Raven nodded, not entirely understanding her best friend’s anger. _We’ve talked about her brother before, why is it an issue this time?_ she thought. Figuring she should try to lighten the mood, Octavia just standing in front of her, white as a sheet. The easiest way, she concluded, would be to talk about something that wasn’t the current topic, but not straying too far from it (she didn’t want to seem like she didn’t care).

‘By the way, it helped me figure out what to give you for your birthday! It’s totally useful for when you want to let off some steam, if you know what I mean,’ she smiled, throwing in a playful wink. Raven had bought her a punching bag, the younger woman had an easier time getting out of a funk or letting out aggressions through physical exhaustion.

Octavia did not react as she’d have thought.

 

 

* * *

 

Lexa was in full warrior gear, including amongst other things a pauldron, a sweeping sash and a sword that she didn’t at all love. Nope, she did _not_ absolutely adore the sword, not Lexa.

‘Jesus fuck, put down the sword for a moment, Zorro. We have to head to the make-up department,’ Anya said, pulling her backwards by the sash. Struggling, she freed herself and tried to rescue what little dignity she felt she had left.

Pushing the door open, she was faced with the bluest eyes she had ever seen. She stopped so abruptly that Anya almost bumped into her, only narrowly avoiding collision. The blonde blue-eyes had paused as well, staring right back at her green ones. The moment was broken when Anya, having regained her bearings, took one look at the blonde before loudly exclaiming: ‘Blondie! Long time, no see… How long has it been?’ in an overly exaggerated tone.

An obviously unamused Clarke just said ‘It’s been five hours, calm the fuck down.’  

Lexa stepped forward, holding out her hand. Clarke surprised her then, clasping her forearm in the way she’d thought unique to her family. At the sight of her jolt, the blonde in front of her merely smiled, using her head to gesture towards Anya.

With that being cleared, Lexa schooled her face back into one of cool indifference. This was her place of employment and she was a professional, with or without confusing(-ly pretty) blondes.

‘So you’re the one who did the make-up in _Three hundred burning soldiers,_ Clarke?’

‘And you’re the one who sent me here.’   


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke feels guilty, Lexa gets her commander on for the first time, Raven is upset, Anya is a problem-solver sent from heaven and shit hits the fan with the Octavia situation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how I feel about this chapter, but it's about time to get on with this story.

It was at that exact moment, Lexa gazing at Clarke inscrutably, that the artist’s phone decided to go off.

 _Dancing queen, young and sweet, only seventeen-_ the blaring ringtone that Raven had set for herself caused a light blush to spread across Clarke’s cheeks and, though it was invisible with her hair down, she felt her ears burn. Apologizing and excusing herself she went through the nearest door, ending up in a supply closet. The phone had stopped ringing, but started again just as fast; eyebrows knit in concern, she clicked the receive call button.

‘Raven, I know it must be important, but could you please hurry? Lexa Woods is right next door, and I’m afraid that I’m making a horrible impression by even answering this.’

Clarke was very right. Lexa was standing with pursed lips, patiently waiting. That she was patient didn’t stop her from thinking about how _utterly unprofessional_ her, she’d been informed, main make-up artist was being.

‘ _Clarke Griffin, you better tell me the truth about what Octavia was crying over the other day right. This. Second. I made a completely innocent joke about her birthday after asking whether she was okay and, I don’t know, she turned white as a sheet. Asked me if you’d told me why she was crying, so I said I did. Clarke, I’ve never seen her anything like that. Then I made that joke and she just… She just stormed out, not even grabbing a jacket. Now I know it’s your first day on the job and that I’ve talked for way too long, but Clarke. Stop lying. This isn’t about her brother. What was she upset about?’_

Raven finished what seemed to Clarke a short speech, but the artist was at a loss for words. Scrambling for an excuse, she ended up very faintly saying something about her phone dying and hanging up on the still protesting mechanic.

Her stomach lurched. They’d never gotten around to anyone actually making breakfast, so it wasn’t as if she _had_ any stomach content. Though Clarke had thought about Octavia often since her admission, in a different way than usual, she had, in a way, forced it to the outskirts of her mind; letting what she knew teeter on the edge of conscious thought, taking into consideration but not considering.

A rapt knock on the door of the small supply closet she realized she had ended in spooked her, her head hitting a shelve behind her.

‘Are you alright?’ Lexa’s voice drifted, with a sort of disconnected worry.

‘Fine, I’ll uhm… -I’ll be out in a sec!’ Clarke said, nearly wincing when she heard her own voice, at least an octave higher than usual and with an unfortunate panicky ring to it. Quickly redirecting her attention to her phone, she found Octavia’s number (lone number, though they would all usually just use the groupchat).

**Octagon**

**Griffster M.D:** O, listen to me: I didn’t tell her

anything, she thinks u were sad bc of

Bellboy bag-O-dicks! It’s a misunderstanding!

 

Clarke didn’t get an answer, so she steeled herself and walked out the closet with all the dignity she could muster. Monroe was nowhere in sight, Harper was busy with Anya and Lexa just stood there, a statue of barely concealed discontent.

‘Are you ready to get working, Clarke?’ Lexa asked, cursing herself for the strange way the name left her mouth. Almost _soft._

Clarke nodded, gesturing towards a separate set of chairs. Few words were exchanged while she added the basic make-up, adding just a bit of extra dirt in the right places for a warrior. But then Lexa turned her head for the addition of her war paint and the artist’s breath actually _hitched._ The soft, yellowish beam from the mirror’s light illuminated all her facial features; her sharp jawline, soft but jutting cheekbones but what’s more, it added a glitter to her eyes that had lacked in the sharp whiteness of the overhead lights.

Clarke froze for a second, simply gazing at the woman in front of her. After what felt like long but probably wasn’t, she noticed that they were staring at each other. Lexa had a similarly as intense look in her forest-green eyes. It was anything but the woman that she had just a few minutes earlier pegged as completely cold, and there was something acutely profound about the whole thing. Too much in fact.

Clearing her throat and grabbing the black paint, Clarke set to work. Her subject had turned back into a rigid stance, ramrod straight in the chair. The instructions had been clear, though giving her room for her creative take; fierce, black color around the eyes, everything else was up to her. At first, she just stroked it from just before the very top of Lexa’s nose to outer edges of her face. It looked sort of pointy, but not mighty in the way of a commander.

Clearly, Clarke thought, something was lacking. Deciding to forego the brushes at hand, she dipped the tips of her fingers into the can of coloring. She wasn’t given a script, but she’d gotten a short resume focused mainly on the character she was in charge of; a fierce commander of twelve clans, perpetually at war despite a deep wish of maintaining peace. Instead of making sharp edges and powerful shapes, she decided to add the heavy burden of those lost, those who would be lost later and the tremendous weight of the world resting upon the shoulders of someone so innocuously young; she added tears.

Not tears of weakness, strong tears, tears that could tear the world apart.

At the finished result, Clarke smiled and gestured towards the mirror. Lexa turned, seeing her face for the first time in this new mask. Meanwhile, the artist noticed for the first time how the mask sat on her subject. Already prominent bone structure suddenly accentuated to a new level, gloriously green eyes somehow highlighted. The pads of her fingers still tingled where they’d touched soft skin.

The fierceness reminded Clarke of Octavia, suddenly and violently.

‘Clarke, I see now that I was correct about your integrity. This is perfect.’ Lexa said with finality and joined Anya, who was eyeing the blonde in question. Something was completely off about her, her blue eyes surveying the bare walls, clearly somewhere else.

As soon as Anya and Lexa left for their poster photographing, Clarke turned to Harper, whose fidgeting about told something about her own state. They were both nervous for someone they cared deeply about, but different people. Clarke started talking, but so did Harper, completely over each other.

‘Do you think we’re done for the day-‘

‘Have you seen Monroe-‘

Both wearing sheepish, strained smiles, Clarke shook her head while Harper told her that yes, they were done.

 

\--

 

_Fuck_

The slamming of the door still ringing in her ear, the phone call to Clarke having cleared absolutely nothing, Raven couldn’t think anything else.

_Fuck_

Something was wrong with O and she had brought it up, crossed some line no one had bothered tell her about, but seemingly everyone else knew. Her eyes closed and opened slowly, staring into the wall. Stinging tears that didn’t fall burned her sight. She didn’t want to hurt anyone, except maybe Wick, definitely O’s shithead brother given the chance -basically, she’d hurt people who absolutely deserved it- but if there was one person who unconditionally did _not_ deserve it, it would be Octavia.

_Fuck_

Someone else had left because of her. Raven couldn’t explain it any other way. Some part of her throat felt swollen, blocking a sob desperately trying to escape. Something, _everything_ inside her felt broken; not snapped or torn, but crumpling. Like all the minuscule fractures life had offered suddenly gave in.

_Fuck_

Fumbling with her phone, fingers shaking, she dialed the one person she felt like she could.

‘ _Hey babe, I’m on break. How are you?’_

 _‘_ Anya, when do you get home?’

Hearing Raven’s tone, the blonde immediately changed demeanor. Whereas she’d been standing around, chatting with the crew and sharing amused looks with her cousin, her entire posture rose, her eyebrows knitting in concern.

‘Raven, are you unharmed?’

‘ _No… I mean, yes but… When do you get home?’_

It took exactly three and a half minute before Anya was in the car.

_Fuck_

 

\--

 

It was cold. Bitter wind and wintry crisp chilled Octavia to the very bone. She shouldn’t be out, she thought, thin hoodie decidedly not warm enough. It felt like raw frost flew in her veins, ‘I deserve it,’ muttered out in a cloud of breath. Her phone was turned off. She didn’t want anything she might receive from Clarke or worse yet, _her._

Raven knew.

Raven knew, and Clarke told her.

Raven knew and had made a _joke_ of it.

 _Stupid, fucking-_ but even then, Octavia couldn’t finish the thought. It was all her own fault.

The streets were dark, but the lamps had yet to turn on. Trudging down a street she didn’t know, shivering head to toe, she really didn’t know what to do.

Clarke had been her friend since forever, the entire foundation for who she was. Even in her state of mind, she found it to think _thank fuck_ for that, it was the most solid foundation she could have hoped for.

Raven they had both befriended later, senior year of high school when she transferred to their school. How or when she wasn’t sure, but she hadn’t actually _realized_ that her feelings for the mechanic weren’t platonic until Anya had been in the picture for a long time.

 _It’s for the best_ ran through her mind like a mantra.

At least it couldn’t get any worse.

‘OCTAVIA?!’ a booming voice behind her yelled, effectively paralyzing her.

It just got worse, of course it did.

 

\--

 

Anya practically kicked down the door to get inside quicker, finding her fiancée in the living room, shaking like a leaf.

Carefully reaching out, she caressed Raven’s cheeks. ‘Raven,’ she said with a forced calm in her voice, ‘What happened?’

‘Why,’ Raven started, her voice small and trembling, ‘-why do people always leave?’

‘Raven, I’m right here. Forever.’

The mechanic shook her head, resting it on her shoulder for a moment then suddenly pulling back as if burned.

‘But what when you get tired of me, or I say something or-‘

‘Look at me, Raven,’ Anya cut her off, speaking as soothingly as she got, ‘You’re assuming that I’d ever give up on you.’

‘People come and go all the time, that’s the cycle. I keep waiting for the day you tell me that I’m not enough.’ The defeated tone in her voice physically pained Anya.

‘I need you to tell me what caused this. Whatever it is, it won’t come between us. Nothing will.’

Raven looked up at her, the version of Anya only she got to see. ‘It’s O… I don’t know what I said, or did, or… She just left… Like, really upset.’

Anya looked thoughtful for a second.

‘She’s in love with you.’

Raven’s eyes widened. She was waiting for a highly inappropriate “SIKE!”, something, _anything_. When it didn’t come, as she hadn’t actually expected, something clicked. ‘Oh my god, you’re right. Fuck!’ Raven pondered for a while, ‘How’d you know?’

‘Known her for quite some time. Figured she’d find a way around it, I think things must have been bad if she took off like that. We need to find her _now_.’

Just as she finished her sentence, the door was once again nearly kicked in. From the unhinged door came an unhinged woman, frantically searching until her eyes landed on the couple in the living room.

‘Raven, any sign of O since-‘

‘What the fuck, Clarke? Why the _hell_ didn’t you tell me the truth?’

Clarke was at a loss for words, staring into Raven’s eyes, which were glaring right back.

‘I couldn’t. She asked me not to tell you, so I didn’t.’

‘Yeah well, this is _so_ much better. She ran off, in a hoodie, in the _middle of fucking February._ You know she doesn’t think about shit like that when she’s like this! If you’d just goddamned told me, I wouldn’t have joked around with her like I did. This shit is on you, Griffin.’

Clarke felt physically sick. While the couple got their coats to go search for their friend, she stood frozen in her spot. She couldn’t really decipher Anya’s expression, but Raven’s was easy enough; anger. Blame.

 

\--

 

‘OCTAVIA, IS THAT YOU?’

She couldn’t move, _why couldn’t she move,_ and the voice got clearer as it got nearer. The icy feeling in her veins spread to her spine, shivers wracking her body.

‘Octavia, oh my god, are you okay?’

The voice had reached right behind her, right in front of her, she couldn’t stop the shivers, couldn’t force her feet to move. Her eyes moved up, falling on the head of floppy hair before her. A thousand thoughts flew through her mind but only one became coherent enough to act on: _no._

He was staring at her, and despite his widened eyes he didn’t see it coming. Octavia drew back her arm, fist clenched and put every ounce of strength she possessed in the forward swing.

Bellamy hit the ground only a minute before Octavia did, exhaustion and cold catching up to her.

 

\--

 

 

‘ _Octavia?’_

‘This is Polis General Hospital, am I speaking to Clarke Griffin, noted as next of kin to Octavia Blake?’

Clarke froze, catching Raven’s eyes for the first time since they’d gotten into Anya’s truck.

‘Yes, that would be me. Please, _please_ tell me that she’s alright,’ Clarke begged, heart stuck in her throat.

‘Miss Blake is in a stable condition, she suffered relatively mild hypothermia. It is expected that she will wake soon, so I’d advise you to hurry if you’d like to be here when she does.’

Clarke gave Anya the directions, ignoring Raven’s seething glares while getting the exact room and corridor Octavia was in.

\--

Not ten minutes later they were all but running up the seemingly endless floors of Polis General, tense concern edged into their faces. Skidding to a halt outside the correct room, Clarke went from nervous for her friend to agitated coldness. Raven looked at her questioningly at the change and the scene, but the blonde was walking hurriedly towards the man in front of them, preoccupied with arguing a nurse loudly.

‘I’m her damn brother, LET ME IN,’ a voice boomed down the hallways. The nurse stood her ground, refusing his entrance.

‘I understand your concern Mr. Blake, but only the _self-chosen_ next of kin are allowed in at the moment,’ she said, face set sternly.

Raven tensed, realizing why Clarke’s demeanor had changed while doing the same herself. When her eyes flickered to the side for a short moment, she found that Anya looked positively murderous.

Clarke, meanwhile, had reached the floppy-haired man sporting a nasty black eye, and stood next to the nurse.

‘If you as much as _think_ about going into her room, I will _end you,’_ Clarke bit, ice filling her voice.

‘You- Clarke?’ he asked, his turmoil gone for a second.

‘Step _away,_ Bellamy. She doesn’t want you here, doesn’t want you anywhere _near_ her.’

Gone but not forgotten, the anger. Bellamy’s face reddened as he yelled ‘And what will _you_ do to stop me?’ trying to look as big and intimidating as possible. He did make a striking stature, chest puffed out and back straightened, but he had nothing on the fury of the three girls and the nurse caught in the crossfire.

Standing shoulder to shoulder, Clarke stood dangerously still, Raven looked about three seconds away from setting him on fire in the most literal way possible and Anya somehow sharpened the daggers shot from her eyes more and more each passing moment.

Bellamy left, staring sourly but keeping his mouth shut as a last way of keeping a shred of non-existing dignity.

When the three of them turned to walk through the door, the nurse signaled for them to halt.

‘Apologies, ladies, but only the emergency contact is allowed in. Unless there’s a C. Griffin present, I’m afraid I can’t let any of you in.’

Clarke stared at a certain spot on the wall while showing her ID, trying desperately to avoid eye contact with her companions, who looked only slightly less bitter than the man they’d sent away. The blonde felt as though the weight of everything crashed down onto her shoulders when she saw their looks, clearly still blaming.

_This is my fault. It’s because of me she’s here._

\--

‘Why is _she_ allowed in but not us? It’s my best friend in there too!’

‘I’m aware, Raven, but it’s just rules. We’ll see her soon,’ Anya sighed, tightening her arms around Raven. Though not usually a hugger, the situation called for it.

‘I’ll bet that if someone actually had the mind to ask O, she’d prefer me,’ Raven whispered, barely audible and half muffled by Anya’s shoulder. The blonde let out a small sigh, stomach twisting slightly at what she knew had to be said. Letting go of her fiancée, she brought up her hand to mechanic’s face. Lifting the woman’s chin, she connected their gazes.

‘Raven, while I’m certain you’re right, we need this situation resolved. Octavia needs to know that Clarke didn’t tell on her-‘ Raven tried to interrupt, but Anya fixed her with a look and continued on ‘-and that you weren’t making fun of her. Think of what happened to her. I believe this is the best way.’

Raven looked to be searching for an argument, but she had to agree. Anya was right. The moment was interrupted by a loud crashing noise from the Octavia’s room. They looked at each other, then the door, then each other. Seemingly coming to the same conclusion, they rushed into the room, ready to separate the two within.

Coming to a screeching halt, both Anya and Raven stared, dumbfounded, on their two best friends. Hugging. Hugging and _bawling_. Even though, logically, they both knew even Octavia and Clarke had to cry sometimes, they were _not_ used to it.

Anya was the first to speak up, Raven staying a bit behind her, filled with some kind of emotion she couldn’t quite place. ‘So, um… You good?’

Clarke and Octavia disconnected, the brunette furiously wiping her eyes as though it made any difference.

‘Much better,’ Octavia said, sharing a smile with all of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tune in next chapter for more Clexa interactions and clearing some very different misunderstandings. Don't know when though.


	3. INFO

Sorry for not updating for... Way too long. The new chapter is sadly lost due to broken computer and I'm not certain when I'll be able to update... Apologies!

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so... That's it, that's the first chapter  
> Thanks for reading, any feedback is much appreciated


End file.
